Wake Up Call
by SimplyTheBeth
Summary: Henry stays out all night, and forgets to check in with Elizabeth. Will she accept his attempt to make amends?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Just some plotless Henry and Elizabeth smut. Let me know if I should continue! ;)

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She awoke to the soft brush of fingertips against her skin, and groaned into the pillow.

"What time is it?" She mumbled.

"Early."

"When did you get home?

"Late."

She grunted. "Yeah, that about clears things up."

"You were asleep," he offered, sliding one of the silky blue straps down her shoulder. "You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you."

She turned her head to the side to look at him, furrowing her brow. "You could have at least called."

His fingers traced lazy circles over her shoulder blade. "I tried to wait up..." She glanced over at the empty wine glass on her bedside table. Her head was throbbing.

"I figured I could make it up to you this morning."

She let out a giggle as she felt him climb over her, and slide the other strap down. He brushed a strand of hair to the side, and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder, his fingers kneading the knots at the base of her neck.

She moaned, and it spurred him on. "Harder," she breathed. She felt his erection poking insistently at her backside, and gave him a hearty chuckle.

"Good morning to you too, Dr. McCord," she teased. But he knew full well just how much his wife loved this sort of wake up call.

"Quickie before coffee?" She asked innocently.

"I think I'll go straight for breakfast." He slid his hands up under her abdomen, guiding her up off the mattress, onto all fours. With her face still buried in the pillow, he climbed down her body, and smiled to himself as he pushed the blue negligee up, and noticed she wasn't wearing any panties.

His nose was the first part of him to make contact, and she jumped at the sensation.

"Relax, Babe." Just then, he drew his tongue softly up her center, without parting her, and her legs began to shake.

"Henry," she pleaded. "Please..."

He smirked, and pressed a thumb along either side of her, revealing just how ready she was, and blew gently along her slit.

She sucked a sharp breath between her teeth, and he knew she was ready to throttle him.

"Cut it out," she warned.

"Tell me," he said quietly, his mouth inches away from where she wanted him.

"Tell you what?" She grunted in frustration.

"Tell me what you want. ...How you want it."

She sighed into the pillow. "I need you to make me come, Henry. I wanted it last night; but I need it now."

He obliged, burying his face in her wet heat, lapping at her hungrily, more than ready to make up for his transgression.

She let out a slow, even breath—one she didn't know she was holding until his tongue hit her just right. She shifted her hips back, urging him to add a bit more pressure.

He slid his mouth over her slick bundle of nerves; sucking gently, he slipped a finger inside her, and felt for her reaction. She bit into the pillow to keep from screaming.

"Bingo," he thought to himself. He'd gotten so good at reading her body language, over the years. Without even looking at her face, he knew just how much she was enjoying herself.

"Baby..." she breathed, reaching back for his hand, as he gently pressed the pad of his thumb to her clit, and slid his tongue inside her, savoring the taste of her desire.

He laced their fingers together, and pulled his mouth from her, sinking two fingers into her, as he climbed back up her body and kissed her shoulder.

"I want to see your face."

Without hesitation, she wrapped her hand around his wrist, and pulled his fingers from inside her, bringing them up to his mouth, and tracing his lips with them, as she turned over.

She pressed a bruising kiss to his mouth, as he brought his weight down onto her, stopping to give her just enough leverage to free him from his boxers.

"You taste like me," she whispered, and he pressed his forehead to hers, locking eyes with him, as she wrapped her fingers around him and began to stroke softly, sliding her thumb over the tip.

Without warning, he brought his hands to the back of her thighs, and hoisted her legs straight up in the air, and he held her there by her ankles. Grabbing hold of his erection, he slid himself gently from her entrance, all the way up to her clit, and back again, teasing her.

"Fuck," he whispered, letting her legs fall to encircle him.

"Yes…" she breathed. "Please."

"No—the kids." He sighed. "They're up."

Almost as if on cue, her alarm clock blared deafeningly into her ear.

"Jesus," she bit out, reaching over to silence it.

"Little hung over?" He taunted, leaning in to kiss her.

"Well maybe if you'd actually made it home last night, I wouldn't have finished the bottle, myself."

He conceded, between kisses. "I know, baby. And I'm gonna make it up to you. Just, wait until—"

Just then, a loud crash bellowed up the stairs.

"What the hell…" She winced.

"I'll go see what that's about." He said with a sigh. "You just close your eyes for a few more minutes."

"Mmm… yeah, okay." She yawned, reaching for the covers. Her eyes flew open, "No wait, no!" She said after a beat, glancing first at Henry's face, and then down at his erection, as he pulled his boxers up. She burst into a fit of laughter. "Toss me my robe."

He smirked, as she stood up, allowing the lacy blue garment to fall in a puddle at her feet. She was finally, completely naked.

She shrugged the robe onto her shoulders, wrapping it around herself, and tying the belt tightly around her waist.

"You owe me an orgasm, Doctor." She pressed a quick kiss to his mouth, and padded out of the room, and down the stairs to investigate the commotion.

...TBC[?]


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the encouragement, y'all! (And also to this massive snowstorm, for giving me a couple days off work, and some serious cabin fever.) One more chapter is on the way!

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She had a stack of papers on her desk, and back-to-back meetings lined up all afternoon. If she didn't review the proposed sanctions against Russia, in the wake of their latest stunt against Belarus, it was a safe bet she wouldn't be making it home for dinner.

The prospect exhausted her. ...Or maybe it was the lack of sleep. In any case, she needed to power through to make it home at a reasonable hour.

Still, she was frustrated with the way she and Henry left off this morning, and couldn't concentrate. If Jason hadn't taken it upon himself to try (and fail) to cook scrambled eggs in a wok, she could have gotten a quickie in; maybe even some steamy shower sex. God, she needed an orgasm. Then again, if Henry had bothered to check in last night, to let her know he wasn't going to make it, she'd have taken matters into her own hands to get the job done. Not the same, by any means—but still good.

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, crossing her legs, and trying keep her mind off the need blossoming in the pit of her belly.

Maybe just a quick check-in to let Henry know he'd been on her mind wouldn't be so bad.

She unfastened the top three buttons on her blouse, so that a whisper of black scalloped lace was exposed. Reaching for her phone, she opened it to the front-facing camera, angled the lens down her blouse, and snapped a photo. She thought better of it after a moment, deleted the picture, and dropped the phone back on her desk. She knew full-well the risk involved in just taking the photo, let alone sending it to Henry's unsecured cell phone. "I must be losing it," she mumbled under her breath.

Deciding she was much too tired to be thinking rationally, she stood up from her chair, refastened the top two buttons on her blouse, and adjusted her skirt.

"Blake?" She bellowed.

Her assistant dutifully poked his head in the door, and plucked earbud from his ear. "Yes, M'am?"

"I need you to hold my calls for the next 20 minutes. I have to close my eyes for a bit. ...Oh, and call Henry. Let him know it's gonna be another late night."

"Yes, M'am." He paused for a moment, clearing his throat.

She grabbed her phone, walked over to the couch, and collapsed into it, dropping the phone onto the floor next to her.

"Will there be anything else, M'am?"

"No. Thank you, Blake."

She closed her eyes, hoping to hear the door click shut. She waited a few moments, a silent plea on her lips, begging him to go, and stave off any further interruption. When he didn't leave, she raised a brow, not bothering to open her eyes.

"Blake?"

"Y-you... missed a button," he stammered, ducking out and pulling the door closed behind him.

She sat up quickly, and crossed her arms over her chest—a feeble and belated attempt to cover herself. A mixture of confusion and slight embarrassment playing over her face, she plunged headfirst into introspective thought. Was she really the type of woman who took suggestive selfies... at work?

Still, her pulse quickened when she thought about what her husband's reaction would have been. Perhaps he was thinking of her too. He was wearing those tight gray slacks when he left this morning—the ones that made his butt look irresistible. How would he have responded? He never checks his phone in class. Maybe he'd be sitting at his desk, grading papers, his pants growing uncomfortably tighter at the thought of that delicate black lace covering his wife's most intimate parts—his _mouth_ covering his wife's most intimate parts. God, the things she would do for him on that desk, if given the opportunity.

She focused for a moment, on the desire pooling between her legs. She needed to stop thinking about her husband's thick fingers in her hair, his strong hands on her hips, his soft lips on her neck, and the gorgeous ache that swelled at the juncture of her thighs as his dark eyes searched for hers while they were making love.

She moaned out loud, and it caught her by surprise.

She needed a rest… and a change of panties. She stood up quickly; hitched her skirt up around her hips, and shimmied out of her lacy underthings, dropping them to the floor on top of her phone, and forgetting to set alarm. She made a mental note to fish a new pair out of the closet when she was feeling a little more rested. Sitting back down on the couch without readjusting her clothes, she closed her eyes, attempting to shut the world out in search of a few moments of peace. But there he was again—her handsome husband. His hands and mouth exploring her body as she wrapped her fingers around his strong arms, her breath hitching each time he buried himself inside her. He'd press her firmly into the mattress with each thrust, and she would wrap her legs around his waist, wanting—needing more of him.

"Henry," she breathed, her desire taking over. Her legs instinctively fell open as she began touching herself, a finger sliding lazily through her slick folds. She moaned softly at the contact, and sank a slender finger inside herself. "Mmmm…" She hummed her approval. Her free hand made short work of undoing the buttons on her blouse, and she tucked one of her bra cups under her breast, and brushed over her nipple, stopping to roll it between her fingers, as she eased another finger inside herself, imagining one of his thick digits in place of her two.

Her breath grew shaky, and for a moment, he was above her, around her, inside her. His lips closing over her nipple, his hands sliding up her thighs, touching, caressing her as their bodies intertwined, beading with sweat.

"Unhhh…" She groaned as she felt herself nearing release—images and snapshots of their intimate moments playing on a loop in her brain. She lost herself in the memories: kicking her heels off and slow dancing with him in the living room, kissing in the kitchen, drinking wine and making love on the staircase—unfastening the button on his pants, the agonizing white heat of him sliding slow, her white-knuckled grip on the bannister, his sweet words whispered into her hair, "I've got you; let go."

She was crashing, paralyzed by the ecstasy, holding her breath and feeling the waves of pleasure collide and wash over her, her legs and body beginning to shake as the air returned to her lungs. "Yesss… Fuck… Yes!" She wasn't quiet. She wasn't trying to be.

After she came down, she lay there silent for a moment, breathing slowly, trying to decipher whether or not she'd been loud enough to tip off her assistant. Remembering the earbuds he was wearing earlier, she felt decidedly okay about her chances. Letting out a relieved sigh, she stood up, pulled her skirt back down, and reached down to scoop up her panties. In doing so, she noticed her phone had been unlocked; two words illuminated, scrolling across the screen that stopped her dead in her tracks. "calling Henry…" She was unknowingly 8 minutes and 46 seconds into a phone call with her husband.

The color drained from her face as she put the phone to her ear.

She swallowed hard. "Hello?"

"Hey Babe," replied the voice on the other end. "Was it good for you?"

"Henry… I—did you?"

"Sure sounded like it."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you for bearing with me! I feel like I wrote myself into a bit of a corner, and needed some time to write myself back out. I guess that's what happens when you don't plan out your stories! Anyway... I lied, this isn't the last chapter. But I hope you enjoy it, just the same. Please let me know what you think!

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"You h—you heard me?!"

He ran a hand over the scruff on his face, and furrowed his brow. "Yeah?"

"Jesus Christ, Henry, why didn't you hang up?" She hissed.

"Wait. You mean…"

Adjusting her blouse as if on cue, she stood up just in time for Blake to burst into her office.

"M'am, I just received word from Russell Jackson. You're needed at The White House."

"Henry, I'll talk to you later. I have to go," she said quickly—all-at-once relieved for the interruption, and silently cursing it.

[…]

She closed the front door gently behind her, hoping the element of surprise would be enough to throw him off his game. Her anger had long-since subsided, and she was leaning heavily into the unsettling juxtaposition of embarrassment and arousal. It wasn't so much that he heard her; heaven knows, she was much more vocal and uninhibited when she was actually in bed with him. It was just awkward to find out she had an audience, after the fact. He should have hung up the phone. In fact, his decision not to seemed downright out-of-character. Still—she couldn't help feeling just the slightest bit aroused over the fact that her handsome, generous lover of a husband was privy to her orgasm without ever having touched her. Suddenly, his knowing that she could get off without him made her feel strangely powerful. Not that she ever wanted to do without—but it certainly didn't hurt for him to know it was possible. Even if he happened to have firsthand knowledge of the fact that he was the subject of some of her wildest fantasies. He already suspected it was true; she'd only ever had eyes for him. But God—this time he actually heard her moaning his name like a divine benediction as she was touching herself. She would never live that down.

She had never felt anything but secure with him; even when it didn't seem to make sense. Awkwardness was entirely new territory for her.

The clicking of her heels as she approached the coat closet gave her away, and he noticed her from the study. She shrugged out of her jacket, as he closed his laptop and pushed his drooping glasses up the bridge of his nose. She pretended not to notice his eyes on her, traveling up her long, toned legs, eyeing the zipper at the small of her back, and settling on the subtle hint of black lace that was visible beneath her white blouse. She was a vision.

His mind traveled back to their first time together; it was Christmas Eve, her sophomore year at UVA. He showed up at her dorm three days after a fight that shook the very foundation of their relationship. The snow fell softly outside as she guided him to the bed. Each of his tentative kisses a silent promise that he'd never leave her again. They slowly undressed, and took their time exploring one another freely for the first time. He was terrified of hurting her, but she just smiled—her blue eyes sparkling as she nodded, her legs falling open as he eased in and waited for her breath to slow. She had never been more sure of anything than she was of him in the moment his hips gently met hers.

Nearly 30 years later, he found himself entertaining some of the very same thoughts—wanting so badly to touch her—to kiss her, to reassure her, and to make up for royally blowing it again. But the thought of her recoiling from his touch was too much to bear. He had to let her take the lead.

She spun around on her heel, and locked eyes with him for a brief moment, before distracting herself with a snag on her blouse.

"Kids aren't home," he offered, stepping out from behind his desk.

"Oh." She replied quietly, looking away. He gazed at her with such love in his eyes, she felt selfish for the torrent of conflicting thoughts running through her head.

He removed his glasses, and ran his hand over the day-old scruff along his jaw. "You know, you don't have to be embarrassed." He said quietly, and waited for her to respond. When she didn't, he took it as a cue to continue. "I'm really sorry if I violated your trust in any way."

"Yeah." She let out a long sigh of relief. He so rarely had anything to atone for, she almost forgot what it felt like to be on the receiving end of a heartfelt apology from him. He was damn near perfect. Henry would always be her safe space—her home. She quickly closed the space between them, and placed her palms on his chest, as he wrapped his arms around her.

"If it's not too presumptuous of me to say so… it—um—it kind of made me want to pick up where we left off this morning," he said, kissing her sweetly.

Her face broke into a smile as she brushed past the invitation, not quite ready to sort through her feelings on the matter at hand. He seemed conflicted—tentative, even. "How was your day?" She looked up at him, brushing her fingers across his strong jaw, and placing a gentle kiss to his throat.

"It was fine," he said dismissively. "Look—do you want to talk about this? Because I…" his voice trailed off.

"I really don't."

"Okay. I just need you to know that I'd never do something like that on purpose."

She knitted her brow and glanced up at him. "Wait—what do you mean?"

He dropped his arms to his sides, and stepped back from her. "To tell you the truth, I didn't realize it was an accident until after you—you picked up the phone. The first thing I heard was my name. I thought that..."

She let out a breath, and collapsed into his arms.

"I didn't realize it wasn't meant… for me to hear. "

She looked up at him, and saw a tear forming in the corner of his eye.

"Baby, I never meant to hurt you."

The look in his eyes melted her resolve. Awash in relief, she kissed him hard, bringing her hands up to his face to anchor herself to him as she claimed his mouth, moaning softly as one of his hands tangled in her hair, and the other slid to her lower back.

"I love you so much," she mumbled against his lips, as he gasped for air. "Let's take this upstairs."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for sticking around. Fair warning: this final chapter is just pure, unadulterated smut. Hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think!

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His lips were on hers, shoving her body into the slightly open door, slamming it shut, and he reached down to lock it. Kids or no—there had been enough intrusions and interruptions for one day. She began working on the buttons of his white collared shirt. He tugged the hem of her blouse up from her skirt, and slid his hands back to unhook her bra. "Fuck," she breathed, her breasts falling free, as he quickly unfastened the top button of her blouse, and yanked it over her head. She slid the straps down her shoulders, and his mouth closed around her nipple. She tried to focus on undressing him, but her body had given over to the electrifying sensation of his lips on her skin. "Don't stop," she panted, as his mouth moved to her other breast, dragging his teeth over the soft pink bud, and soothing it with his tongue.

When he was sure she could take no more of his teasing, he stood upright, and looked her square in the eye, tugging at the seams of his shirt, sending the remaining buttons clattering across the room. She rewarded him with the sexiest little moan, and slid her hands to his chest, pressing a hot open-mouthed kiss to the hollow of his throat, as he undid his belt buckle, and she worked on his button and fly.

Once his pants were around his ankles, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his boxers, but he grabbed her hands quickly, pinned them above her head, and rolled his hips into her, determined to tease her. He brought one hand down to the hem of her tight skirt, trying to tug it up over her hips.

She pressed her lips just below his ear. "Off." She breathed.

He brought his hands to her hips, and spun her around. Her hard nipples pressed against the cold door and she cried out, as he unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor.

He raised an eyebrow at the unexpected encounter of her bare skin. "No panties?"

"…Never put 'em back on." He couldn't see the devilish smirk on her face, but he could damn well hear it in her voice. "Now get to work, Professor."

He brought one hand down hard against her ass, and she jumped at the sting of it. After 30 years of amazing sex together, they could still manage to surprise each other.

"If you're gonna get sassy on me, I'll make you pay for it" He said, tracing his fingers down her spine.

"Promise?" She replied sweetly. She loved it when he got rough with her.

He brought his hand to the front of her and slid a fingertip through her silky folds. "You like that, huh?" he teased, and she drew her bottom lip between her teeth, biting back her moans at the sensation of his fingertips brushing softly against her, as he rested his palm against her mound, settling there to tease her.

"Henry," she breathed, as he began rocking his hips into her behind, feeling his erection through his boxers. "Please."

With that, he slid a finger up inside her, pumping and curling as she pressed her fingertips into the door.

"Yes," she whimpered. "Harder."

Her legs felt like Jell-o, and she was rocketing towards release when she was overcome with the sudden, unrelenting urge to face him; to taste him

Almost as if he could read her mind, he brought one hand up to the back of her head, and tugged gently at her hair, tipping her head back to kiss her as he continued sliding his fingers up, over her clit pressing firmly, then sinking back down into her heat.

The kiss was agonizingly erotic—but still not enough to satisfy her hunger for him. "Baby," she panted, "Let me make you feel good."

She pushed her hips back against him, and turned around, already missing the feeling of his thick fingers inside her. Dropping to her knees, she tugged at the waistband of his black boxers, and his erection sprang free.

Within seconds her mouth was on him, lips sucking, tongue swirling around his pulsing thickness.

"God, yes," he whispered, glancing down at his beautiful, naked wife down on her knees for him. He closed his eyes while her warm, wet mouth worked him from tip to base, aided by her delicate fingers. She felt heavenly—so soft and smooth, and his fingers tangled in her hair, urging her to continue.

"So close," he warned.

His eyes slipped shut as she brought him to completion, sucking just a little harder at the tip, as she groaned, relaxing the back of her throat, to take him in deeper. The reverberations pulsed though him as she grazed her fingertips against his balls, and he spilled hotly into her eager mouth. She swallowed all he had to offer, with a soft moan, and pressed a gentle kiss to his abdomen. She wiped her mouth on the back of her hand as he helped her to her feet.

Even in their most passionate moments, there was tenderness.

He brought a hand to her hip, and slid her back against the door, and dropped to his knees, one hand between her legs, urging her to open them for him. The bed could wait until he returned the favor. He loved watching her from below as he pleasured her with his mouth.

He nudged his nose in between the apex of her thighs, and she let out a long, slow breath. "Baby. …Please." The urgency in her voice was all the encouragement he needed to slide his tongue into her soft folds, sucking and lapping at her, as she rolled her hips into the sensation of his warm, inviting mouth savoring the taste of her desire. She looked down at him, moaning softly at the sight of him on his knees, eyes closed, mouth fitted over her. She slid her fingers into his hair, and bucked against him as he massaged her softly with his tongue. He was always damn good at this part, and she loved to watch him work. She brought the other hand down to the back of his head as he sucked her.

"Unnnnhhhh!" She gave him a throaty cry, signaling her control was beginning to slip, and he reached up, curling two thick fingers up into her, and pulling a gasp from somewhere deep inside her. "Yes!" She cried. "Yes! Yes! Right there, Baby… Yes!"

He groaned into her slick heat, and the vibrations made her toes curl, and sent her hurtling towards the finish line. "You taste so good," he mumbled into her, "Come for me, Baby. Just like this. Come for me; I want to taste."

His words were her undoing. Thrashing against him as the final thread that tethered her to her surroundings snapped, and blinding ecstasy overtook her body. Her orgasm rocketed through her, exploding like fireworks as his mouth coaxed her gently back down, from between her thighs. No amount of self-gratification could ever hold a candle to the feel of his lips against her like this.

He climbed to his feet as she caught her breath, and he flashed her a proud grin. "Do you know how beautiful you are?" After all these years, he still knew how to make her blush.

He moved to her neck, and peppered her soft skin with sweet kisses. She sighed quietly, "If we don't move this to the bed, I might fall over."

He laughed heartily and brought his hands to her hips, turning her around, and walking her over to topple onto the mattress with him.

She smiled, and pressed her hands to his bare chest, as he reached between them, grabbed hold of his erection, and eased into her. He held her hips down as he stayed there unmoving for a moment, allowing her to adjust to the delicious feeling of him buried all the way inside her.

After a few moments, she arched her back up off the bed, and rolled her head back, urging him to move. He started slowly at first, pressing his fingertips into her thighs, as she sought out his lips. She moaned softly, their bodies slipping together, as he picked up the pace—her body answering his every skillful demand as they fell into their own unique rhythm that stood the test of time.

"Better than the botched wakeup call?" He asked, smiling down at her. She closed her eyes, and ran her fingers through his hair, as his hips slid effortlessly against hers.

"Well that depends."

"Oh?" He said with a smirk, reaching a hand down between them to tease her gently.

"Hmmmmmmmm..." she breathed. "Do you like hearing it over the phone, or like this."

"I think I prefer this," he chuckled, pressing his fingers to her, and she gasped at the sensation. "Definitely this."


End file.
